


So There I Was

by bleuvelvet



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Kind of Gross Humor, M/M, Misuse of What We Do in the Shadows quote, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29946750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuvelvet/pseuds/bleuvelvet
Summary: Spike tells Xander the story of how he got captured by Nazis that one time.
Relationships: Xander Harris/Spike
Kudos: 4





	So There I Was

**Author's Note:**

> Someone, pls send help. I can't seem to stop writing Xander/Spike. This came about after randomly remembering one of the best scenes in What We Do in the Shadows and having recently watched the episode where Angel finds Spike, Nostroyev, and the Prince of Lies on the submarine in the 1940s.
> 
> Also, CW: the subject of their conversation is kinda gross. If you've seen What We Do in the Shadows, you'll probably be fine (and recognize the quote I based this off of). I'll include details in the end note.

"You got caught at a virgin blood party?" Xander's single eye is focused on Spike in bleary disbelief. "Didn't that seem a little...suspicious to you?"

Spike shrugs. "S'why I left Dru behind, innit? The opportunity was too good to pass up completely. Figured I'd scope it out first."

"So, you go to this party with two other vamps…"

"Nostroyev and the Prince of Lies."

"The Prince of Lies? Really?" Xander's eyebrow is steadily climbing higher up his forehead, a move he'd picked up from Spike years ago.

Spike shrugs again. "He was old. Really old. Reckon he couldn't've remembered his own name even if you'd given him all the blood in China. Hell, they might not have even _had_ names when he was made."

Xander stares at him. "Jesus, that's old."

"Right?" Spike tips his beer bottle towards the human in a gesture of camaraderie and then drains it. "Where was I?"

"Virgin blood party."

"Right. Yeah." Spike stumbles over to their fridge to grab another beer. He holds up a second one to the man on the couch, who nods enthusiastically and waves him over. Spike ambles back over with the two beers and drops down on the couch opposite Xander, slapping a cold bottle into the outstretched palm. "So, we get to the party, and the place is empty.

'Where's the virgins?' Nostroyev asks.

And I says, 'Well, they ain't here, obviously.'

'Maybe we're early', the Prince o' Lies suggests. Still all hopeful-like, he was.

But ol' Spike knew something weren't right." He taps two fingers to his temple. "Then, we hear a scuffle, and suddenly the place is filled with drab uniforms and bright red armbands.

'It's the krauts!' I yell and then start swinging." Spike swings a fist in demonstration. "Nostroyev pulls a saber from somewhere and sets about with the slashing. Ol' Prince is hissing and clawing, but there's too many of 'em. They surround us, tie us up, shoot us full of some awful concoction of who-knows-what, and next thing I know I'm strapped to a table in the middle of the ocean."

"All because the lure of a virgin blood party was too strong?" Xander stares across at the vampire doubtfully.

"Hand to God, mate. That's how it went."

"How are you still alive?" Xander's tone suggests that Spike's apparent stupidity should have done him in years ago. One hundred twenty-plus years ago. Maybe even sooner. Xander was a little fuzzy on how vampires calculated their age.

Spike smirks. "I'm just that skilled," he leers.

Xander snorts at him and then turns back to contemplating the show they had been watching and drinking his beer.

It's not until a little while later that he feels drunk enough to ask, "why virgins?"

"What?" It's Spike's turn to look blearily at his companion.

Xander rolls the bottle he's been drinking from between his palms. "What's the draw towards virgin blood? It sounds more evil than drinking regular, old human blood? More demon-y?"

Spike gets a contemplative look on his face as he ponders Xander's question, beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. The silence stretches on long enough that Xander is beginning to think he's right and Spike just doesn't want to admit it. He's just starting his smirk of triumph when the vampire finally opens his mouth.

"Well, it's like this: say you had a nice, big hamburger, yeah? Lettuce, tomato, ketchup. Whatever the fuck you like on that shit." Spike shapes the mythical burger in the air with his hands, glass bottle still clutched in his left.

Xander nods along cautiously.

"And it's all nice and hot, thick and flavorful. Filling your mouth with juicy delights." 

Xander's mind wanders to the juicy delights of the vampire before him, and not of the hamburger variety, and feels a little hot under the collar. He tugs a bit at his shirt and forces his mind back to the topic at hand. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you're talking about hamburgers?"

"Just quoting you from the last time you had one at that diner you like." Which...okay, fair. Xander may have said something to that effect while lost in meaty heaven. However, Spike should know better than to listen to anything he says when he's working himself towards a food coma. He can't be held responsible for what comes out of his mouth.

Spike grins at him and leans in. "Wouldn't you feel just a bit better, eating that hamburger, knowing for sure no one had fucked it first?"

It takes a moment for Xander's mind to catch up with what Spike is saying, but when he does, his face screws up in disgust. "Oh. Ugh! Ew! That's gross!" He bats his hands at Spike before getting one on the vampire's face and pushing him away.

Spike goes easily enough, falling back onto the arm of the couch, laughing at the human's squeamishness. "You can't tell me I'm wrong, pet."

Xander's face screws up in a mixture of disgust and contemplation. "Yeah, but most people don't go around screwing hamburgers, or their food in general. Vampires on the other hand," he looks down pointedly at Spike's crotch and fingers a faint red mark on his inner arm.

The vampire in question shrugs easily enough. "S'all relative, innit? Some men can fuck a sheep and still eat 'em the next day, I wager." Xander's expression is more disgust than contemplation now. 

"And ain't that a thought," Spike says, warming up to the subject. "Does your burger still count as being fucked if the fucking happened while the cow was alive?"

Xander's stomach turns. "Oh god."

"Think about it-"

"I'd rather not."

Spike ignores the interruption. "You could have been eating burgers that've been receiving some extra special protein injections your entire life."

"I'm gonna puke."

Spike stops his musings and studies his conversation partner. Victim. Whatever. "No, you're not." Despite his words, he doesn't sound very certain.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Xander scrambles up from the couch. Spike bounces to his feet behind him, placing a guiding hand on the human's back as he makes a break for the bathroom.

"I'm going to stake you," Xander says some time later between heaves. 

And really, what kind of vampire would Spike be if he just left that lying there? "Ooh, is it going to be a thick one? Gonna give it to me raw, just the way I like it?" He smiles winsomely, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Which is somewhat true, actually, depending on the temperature he happens in at any given time.

Xander glares up at him from over the rim of the toilet bowl. "This is all your fault. I hate you."

He looks so pitiable that Spike finally decides to take mercy on the human. "No, you don't," he states, rubbing gently at the base of Xander's skull.

Xander closes his eyes at the welcome sensation of cool fingers massaging the back of his neck. "No, I don't." He releases the toilet and leans to the side, resting his head on the vampire's shoulder.

Still rubbing the back of Xander's neck, Spike cards the fingers of his other hand through the man's slightly sweaty locks. "'Sides, not my fault you've got such a delicate constitution."

He grunts a little at the punch to the ribs his comment garners, but keeps massaging the man's scalp. He may have deserved that. Just a little. It hadn't been a very strong punch anyway.

They stay that way for a while, camped out on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, Spike gently soothing Xander's too warm skin with his cool touch.

Eventually, Xander starts to show signs of life and sits up from his hunch. Spike stops his soothing motions, but keeps his fingers threaded in Xander's hair. "Alright then?"

Xander gives him a wan smile, gently touching an elbow, stroking a thumb over the smooth skin of the joint. "Yeah. Thanks."

"No worries, mate. Think you can get up?"

"Yeah."

Spike unfolds himself from the floor first, then reaches down and carefully guides Xander to his feet. "Whoa, steady now," he says when Xander sways into him, resting his larger frame against the more compact one. He cradles the man's elbows; not holding, just letting his presence and ready support be known.

Xander smiles at him. "Thanks."

He'd blush if he could, Spike thinks, at the open warmth and gratitude on the face before him. He looks down instead. "Yeah, well, least I could do."

"Because it's your fault," Xander says, a touch smug.

"Oi now! I said before; it ain't my bleedin'-"

Xander leans forward and kisses him.

It's gross. Xander tastes of regurgitated beer and gastric acid, but Spike endures because he probably deserves this, too. Both the gratitude in the kiss and the retribution of having to get up close and personal with Xander's gut reaction to too many beers and Spike's overly descriptive nature. Because, yeah, it probably is his fault. Just a little bit, though.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: discussion of having intercourse with animals. And implied vomiting. Nothing graphically described.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you've enjoyed this work, please consider leaving a comment or kudo!


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